Meagan is a momma.

One of the hardest things to do is wait for the news of how the story will end. Not quite a week ago my best friend's daughter checked herself into the hospital and was induced. The bride and groom in the gorgeous picture above (very top of my blog) started their family early into their wedded bliss. Shortly after their return from their honeymoon Meagan and Michael found out they were going to be parents. She was due in October. So we all set our clocks for mid-fall.

Meagan had several complications a long the way and her doctors began to worry for her health, so the plan became to keep Breydon in as long as possible without endangering mom or baby. And so we waited.

On Wednesday, 8 months to the day that we sat at Boat House and enjoyed rehearsal dinner and waited for the events of the next day, we waited for Meagan to have her baby. It was a new experience for me to get labor and delivery updates by watching face book! At about 12:45 a facebook post reported Meagan being at 1 cm. My first thought was....oh my goodness, this kid is really having a baby. I'm not sure what I thought was going to happened once she got to the hospital. Maybe that they'd hand Breydon to her. My second thought was....this is going to be a long night and there won't be news for a while. So I slept. Until the phone rang telling me Breydon was here. Meagan was fine. Despite being 6 or 7 weeks early the little guy was 5 pounds 6 ounces. Other than the normal 34 week preemie issues he was doing very well. I figured it was just about time to get up for work and then I looked at the clock. It wasn't even 2:30. 2 pushes and 11 minutes of hard labor. I think it was the first thing that was "easy" about the pregnancy.

Breydon continues to do well and pass mile stones, and barring anything unexpected we have a better idea of how the story ends.

I'll let the pics tell the rest of the story.


Proud dad!

I already know I'm NOT going to like it.

The title of this post is a play on an earlier post entitled, I already know I'm going to like it. In that post my niece, a few minutes into the Chinese acrobat's performance, whispered in awe to me, "I already know I'm going to like it."

While in Branson, at my mom's prompting, we saw the show (Cough. Cough. I can hardly type this with a straight face.) Noah, the Musical. It isn't the first time she has suggested this show. It always surprises me because she isn't a fan of music, or noise, or anything song-like. I've never read through Genesis and thought....now that would make a great musical--if only someone would produce that.

Everywhere you go in Branson there are advertisments for shows. The shows are their bread an butter. At one of the places we stopped there was a replica of the arc they use on stage, and I have to admit it was impressive looking. We grabbed a pamphlet and again, mom lobbied for the show saying that she'd read it was one of those "experiences" you don't want to miss. Later in the evening (at the last minute) we decided to head to the show--and I mean last minute. We were late. The parking people directed us towards the handicapped parking to save walking time. They put us way up in almost the last row, as to not interrupt the others enjoying the show who made it there on time. We joined the show already in progress and Noah, and family were singing their hearts out--musical style. A few minutes into the show mom leaned over to me and said....."I don't think I like this." The good news is that there was only 2 hours and 20 minutes left until it was over.

The first half (while they were building the arc) was a little draggy. The second half (while they were on the arc) was kind of cool. The stage, and both sides of the building were turned into 3 stories of the inside of the arc. The audience's view looked in the animal stalls. Most animals were fake, but they had a few real animals in the stalls and on the stage. Goats, and chickens and donkeys, and cows and such.

After Mom expressed her dissatisfaction I asked her what she thought it was going to be. She said, "I don't know--not so much singing". I realize when you have an image in your head of how something is going to be that you filter out the other clues that pop up. Here is the pamphlet advertising the show. Perhaps there were a couple clues....



The first clue of course is the title. Noah the MUSICAL. Not Noah, the play or Noah, the commentary or Noah, the dramatic reading.



The second clue is that the people in the ad seem to have their hands up, looking skyward, with their mouths open. A dead giveaway that there are some really long notes being held.

We survived the first half, and enjoyed the second half :-)

How do kids get adults to do stuff like this?

Mom and Dad and I have the kiddos for the weekend. We are giving their parents some much deserved peace and quiet. Last night was belated fireworks. They were pretty wimpy as far as fire works go, but the kids had fun.




The fireworks were "too bright". Colby needed his sun glasses.

Today was the fair. As a rule the fair cannot come to town without it being the hottest week of the summer. Today was blazing hot. I'd give us about a D+ for taking children to the fair in a responsible manner. We took barely enough cash to get in and had no water or snacks of any sort with us. It wasn't long before we were all melting in the heat. DQ isn't far from the fair, and it saved our lives. Well, that might be a little dramatic, but it was really hot. Very little shade. No drinking fountains and an entire afternoon planned for the fair.

I love this shot because of what Kate has on her head. This was a craft that she made with Gramma. A simple scrap of fabric with some glued on buttons. Kate bonded with it immediately. It has been a scarf, a sling to carry her baby, a shawl, a backpack, and a belt. It had to go to the fair today & it became a head dress. That is so Kate.



I love this one too. It is typical goofy Colby and Kate still has the head dress on.

Ahem. Perhaps I'm too stupid to own a car.

Every once in a while you run into a situation that if it hadn't happened to you it would be really funny. There is a debate in my head whether or not to actually put this out in cyber space, but in the end, I think it is laugh worthy and maybe someone else can comfort themselves with the phrase.....well, at least I've never done that.

My car troubles on the way to Indy were two-fold. One, a tire was vibrating. Two, the car didn't seem to be able to accelerate. Once I got the car to 55 or 60 it didn't have any trouble maintaining speed, just getting there. Stop lights were fun. I was keeping pace with semi's taking off from a dead stop.

The wonderful woman who owns the place I take my car (who reads my blog) very kindly responded to my last blog post, and through cyber space gave me some advice on fluids to check before heading home and set up an appointment for the day I'm back in town. My mom and dad and I set out from Branson early this AM and drove to Indy. Once there it was my dad's job to check fluid levels and give the car a test run to see if it should be driven to Warsaw. He returned a few minutes later and happily announced he solved the acceleration problem. My car mat was stuck up under the pedal.

This alone would be a good place to stop with feeling sheepish about a lot of fuss over a simple fix. But it gets worse. I've actually had the car in the shop before and was given that same diagnosis. As soon as my dad told me what he found I thought....."Oh yeah. I've heard that before." The mat was moved back and the car ran smoothly. Lesson learned. The mat now resides in my garbage can. Hopefully this is the last of the mystery of the lack of acceleration.

(Sharon, if you happen to be up late tonight and read this before the morning, I'm still bringing the car in for the vibration!)

Well now, how do you figure that, buddy?

I love being on vacation. However, I hate getting ready for them. There is always so much last minute stuff you can't do until....the last minute. All those little details to try not to forget. Like insulin. Walked out the door this time without my insulin. You'd think that would be the first thing that gets packed, wouldn't you?

On Friday I left for vacation. I had a 6:30 PM flight out of Indy to Kansas City, where my parents were going to meet me and then we'd drive a bit further before settling in for the night. I was tense during the day because there was very little buffer built into the day. If something went wrong it meant the carefully made plans would go out the window.

From the minute I woke up very little of my plans for the day happened as I planned them. Nothing major, just little things here and there that kept causing me to adjust my plans. I left work and headed to Jami's. I was to leave my car at her house and she was going to run me to the airport. It is a 2.75 hour drive. At about .25 hours my car starts giving me trouble. The kind of trouble where you ask yourself....do I keep going or turn around or stop or....? I decided to go. I had 2.5 hours to continue to let the tension build, and try to figure a plan B if I didn't make my flight.

My lunch plans never worked out so at this point it is going on 4:00 and I hadn't eaten since early morning. My car held out and I am two exits from turning off 465 and traveling the last few minutes to Jami's. I hit some minor construction traffic. I'm still somewhat OK on time. I'm all the way over in the right lane, so that when I get to my exit I'm ready. Traffic is trying to merge from the right onto 465 and I'm watching as the "every other car" thing is happening. There is a line trying to get onto 465 and a line already on 465. One car trying to merge gets let in, and then one car already on 465 pulls up a little, and is slowly repeated.

I get to the part where it is my turn to let a car in, which I do. Then a second one creeps in. Fine. I let him in. I begin to pick up speed to go with the flow of traffic, and I notice a THIRD car that is going to demand his way in. The guy is behind me at this point, and really having to work to catch up and pass me. It has become a game of chicken, because very soon his section of road is going to disappear and if he doesn't get ahead of me he is going over a small cliff.

This joker shows no sign of giving up, and I'm guessing that rather than go over the edge he's going to swerve left into my car at any second. As tense and as irritated as the day has left me, I have the presence of mind to do what it takes to get him safely into the flow of traffic on 465. I apply my brakes and slow down enough so that he can pass me and get in. I might have also applied my horn a bit as I was slowing down. And by "a bit" I mean, I held the horn down the entire time I was slowing down and he was pulling onto 465.

The gentleman in the car pulls ahead, scoots in and responds by...you guessed it. He flips me off. Not once, not twice, but three times. And not just with his hand. He gets his whole arm and upper part of his torso into the event. It is quite possible he tore or injured a muscle in his arm with the force he put into the gesture. Movement like that usually is safest when you warm up the body part first.

I thought to myself....well now, how do you figure that, buddy? You ignore the game traffic had been playing that says one car at a time gets on. You are so far behind me that I have to slow down to let you in. I kindly let you in rather than force you off the road, and when I communicate my slight frustration with a little tap on my horn, you flip me off. Really? You are irritated with me?

With the power of hindsight it probably would have been smarter not to use my horn. It really didn't help the situation and I didn't know the mental state of the person in the car ahead of me. It just never occurred to me as this guy was dangerously forcing his way on to 465 that I'd be the one flipped off. Lesson learned though. No need to honk my horn and add fuel to the fire.

In the end I made it to the airport with plenty of time. My flight got in a few minutes early and the rest of the night was smooth sailing.

Blame it on Barbara. :-)

A few months ago I read the book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. I was mainly drawn to the book because it was one of those "the challenge I took for a year" books. I'm a sucker for those. I like the idea of a challenge with a definite time limit. You know when you can quit and how long to pace yourself.

Barbara's challenge to herself and her family was to eat only locally grown and raised food for a year. There were a few exceptions and I forget the specifics but I think they included coffee, a few spices and some other staples necessary to cooking from scratch. She cut out all processed food, and things like citrus fruits (she lived in Appalachia---far from any orange groves). She had the advantage of living on a farm which produced a good majority of the food she consumed.

While she talked about her year she explained why she felt it was important to eat locally. I was so unprepared for what I was about to read. I'm not sure what I thought went into getting food on my table. Maybe I didn't think about it at all. I just assumed that the people in charge of "feeding" me had my best interest in mind. For the sake of brevity I won't repeat her book (but I highly recommend reading it!) but within a few chapters I knew I had stumbled upon the type of information that now that it was bouncing around in my head I could no longer claim ignorance or indifference.

By the end of the book I wasn't entirely sure what I believed in, but I knew what I no longer believed in. I could safely say it didn't make sense to ship a strawberry to me from California--when they are grown locally. I knew that I didn't want to support the purchase of meat or eggs if the animals weren't raised and slaughtered humanely. I was intrigued by her explaining how when a certain food was in season she ate and enjoyed large quantities, canned for the winter, and then eagerly looked forward to the next food in season.

So. Where to go from there. It would be a huge change. One without a clear map. I was given wise advice by some friends at work to just make one change at a time. (Thanks Amy and James!) When that change feels normal, it is time to make the next change. I started by giving my old friends Betty Crocker and Chef Boy-Ar-Dee a much needed vacation. I haven't fired them completely but when I looked at my eating habits very little of what I ate was prepared by my own two hands. It was reheated, warmed, nuked, poured out of a can. Fast, cheap, and easy but...time for something different. Even if it was processed I made an effort to have some hand in the preparing of my food. This translates into more time (and more dishes!) but I'm easing into it. And it tastes so much better.

I started buying organic milk. I have never been a milk drinker, but that changed once I tasted organic milk. If for no other reason than the taste, I'll never go back to non-organic.

I've visited Whole Foods a couple times while in Indy to see my sister. It is amazing as far as product selection goes. Not very "local", but lots of organic to choose from.

I tried my hand at picking my own strawberries. I had no idea what to expect. I got up bright and early on a Saturday. Hauled my sleepy self out of bed and arrived at 7:30 AM to beat the heat and crowds. The girl behind the counter asked if I wanted to pick my own or purchase already picked berries. Pick my own of course. I took my flat out to my row and pick a few. I dropped them in. It still looked really empty. Picked a few more. Dropped them in. Wow. This was going to take a while. I wore the wrong shoes and my feet were irritated with me. Then my legs lost interest. Shortly after that my back was done. So was I. I admitted defeat and went back to the check out stand and paid for my measly 4 pounds and purchased a pre-picked flat that was about 11 pounds. Who knew that picking them was only the beginning of the fun. I later got to stand in front of my sink for the rest of the morning cleaning them. When it was all done and the mess cleaned up and I had a bowl of strawberry shortcake topped with organic milk. Well....it wouldn't be the truth to say it was all worth it, but it certainly was good shortcake. Three or four months down the road when I thaw some frozen strawberries--I might think it was worth it. :-)

I've also explored my local farmer's market. I got grass-fed, grass-finished beef. Again, all other reasons aside the taste alone is enough to never go back to hamburger in the store. Knowing the cow was pasture grazed and raised in humane conditions is icing on the cake.

The fruit I've picked up has been equally amazing. I never plan to purchase a strawberry or cherry from a local grocery store again. I've also been able to get eggs, rhubarb and honey.

It certainly has been different and I don't feel very good at it yet, but for me it has been the right choice. I'm not 100% switched over. A lot of my food is still processed and I'll still stop at fast food from time to time. If there are treats brought in at work I'll eat them, but my momentum has shifted. Each time I find a new way to purchase food that is local or less processed I get a little thrill. I'm still learning!

I was so excited the first time I came home from farmer's market shopping I took pics to memorialize the event.


Local honey and grass fed, grass finished beef!


Yum! Look how red!



No matter how many strawberries I pulled out and cut this sink never seemed to get empty. Many times while standing at the sink I wondered if I was crazy to give Betty Crocker and Chef Boy-Ar-Dee their pink slips. :-)

Read Barbara's book and see if she challenges your thinking or even introduces you to things you had never thought about before. I'm glad I did!

Camping with the nastiest dog ever.

This weekend I met my sister and her family at Tippecanoe River State Park in Winamac. We do what I call faux-camping. They have a camper, complete with A/C and beds. There is still nature,sun, dirt and campfires, but at the end of the day you crawl into a somewhat comfy bed and A/C which is what separates camping from faux-camping. :-)

The campground was not the most exciting one I've been to. Admittedly, it is Northern Indiana which isn't as picturesque as areas to our south. It didn't have a pool, which changed the tone of the weekend. Both Colby and Katlyn are water bugs and would have stayed in pool as long as we let them.

I was struck this weekend at how very little "kid" is left in the kids. Colby is just past 8 1/2 and Kate is just past 6 1/2. We were close enough to the park that they could go on their own. They dress themselves. They can open and close the camper doors (which wasn't true for Katlyn last time I camped with her!) Colby is well on his way to developing that special skill set guys have for not listening and paying attention to detail.

Most of what we did this weekend was things I've done on past trips with them. Things I had seen, or knew what to expect except for.....the dog. One of my very first blog entries was about Diesel. Diesel was quite ill and not sure if he would be much longer for this world. He has since recovered, except for a bacterial infection on his skin that keeps coming back. It makes him break out, and then scratch where it itches, which opens up spots on his back, and...you get the picture. He loves to be petted and cuddled and loved on. He spent most of the weekend trying to get us to pet him and we spent most of the weekend trying to avoid petting him. Poor Diesel. Not the sharpest crayon in the box, but aside from skin issues, really a funny, enjoyable little dog. Diesel did a lot of charming things this weekend. He earnestly rooted around in the grass, eating--we aren't sure what--and then make a horrible coughing noise and spit it all back up. He'd usually wait until your leg or foot was close enough to anoint. He usually laid in this position:



which let him soak up the maximum amount of dirt. He'd lay with his slobbery mouth on the ground and his tongue hanging out, usually resting on the earth. The result was a black tongue, and dirt beard hanging off the edges of his mouth. Here's a video of wonder-dog playing with his football:



His best story was the hike we tried to take. We head out of our camp site and literally get 4 campsites down and he needs to poop. Right away there is something to carry with us for the hike. He is a fairly lazy dog and there was doubt as to whether or not he would hold up. We get on the trail, which has roughly 7 million hungry mosquitoes hiding in the bushes ready to ambush the latest humans who venture into the forest without the benefit of bug spray. If you kept a certain pace the bugs were bothersome, but not terrible. Unfortunately that pace was 8.7 miles per hour. Katelyn couldn't keep the pace and Jami was the only one sacrificial enough to stay back with her. Slowly though the dog slowed down. Slower. Slower. Slower. Eventually Katelyn was poised to pass him. We were all miserable and decided to ditch the hike and go back. The dog made it back to camp and then passed out under the trailer in complete exhaustion, and tried to cool himself down. We were gone for about 30-40 minutes.

There were other memories that didn't register on the grossness scale.

Katlyn celebrated her graduation from Kindergarten:



Morning at the Murray campsite. Colby is up, still in him pajamas, and reading. He gets that from me, I think :-)




This is kind of like where's Waldo. Can you spot the sleeping kid?





Nothing is better than waking up to the grinning face of a wiggling 6 year old who is just soooooooo happy that you finally opened your eyes, so that she can begin interacting with you. For Kate, interacting is touching, rolling on, poking, cuddling, crawling on, tickling, wrestling, giggling--even at 7:00 in the morning.

And here's one more for the road. This is the please, please, please feed me look. Literally. I was holding a treat up to get him to pose for the shot.